


I Will Gladly Join the Fight

by Wrote_My_Own_Deliverance



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gay John Laurens, Heavy Angst, M/M, Soldiers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 04:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16695529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrote_My_Own_Deliverance/pseuds/Wrote_My_Own_Deliverance
Summary: Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton is lucky enough to meet fellow Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens the night before he ships out. This meeting will change his life forever. Set during WWII, this is a standalone fic. Graphic depictions of violence. Mild sexual content.





	I Will Gladly Join the Fight

**Author's Note:**

> So, this popped into my head earlier this afternoon, which means that naturally I stayed up all night and wrote seventy-five hundred words. This is it, it stands alone. Comments give me life. I'm sorry...

 

It was my last night in New York. Last night home. Walking down the street through Manhattan I felt, in equal measure thrilled and anxious. I carried my pack, the only belongings I had with me and went out to the bar down the street, trying to imagine what the rest of my life would look like, wondering if it would be months… weeks? I fidgeted in my sweater and walked into the bar, filled with other guys headed out in the morning. I needed a drink.

There was only one open seat at the bar, I claimed it and ordered a whiskey on the rocks, sliding the bartender some cash. I would certainly be able to find or make a friend in the sea of strangers. We all had the common ground of being brave enough to face down death.

A man walked up to me, tall, his face full of freckles, a thicket of curly hair almost too long to be regulation. He wore a tired looking brown leather jacket, carrying himself haughtily.

"Sorry, pal, this is my seat." He said sternly, staring me down, he looked like he was ready for a fight. So was I.

I wasn't one to back down from a challenge and thought about starting something with him. You can't just claim the only seat at the bar and not actually be there. That's not how this works. I started to formulate an argument that would almost certainly end up with us in a brawl and I wasn't sure how many of the men in this crowded bar knew him, would take his side, be willing to crown me with a bar stool. I calculated the risk and stared at him.  _I got distracted staring at him_ , at his devil may care appearance. It was enticing, entrancing, captivating.

His face broke into a grin, "hey, I'm just giving you a hard time." He clapped me on the shoulder and grinned, dimples tucked on either side of his grin. I guessed that he was in a few drinks deeper than I was, he had a thick southern accent and I could smell the hops on his breath, but it almost smelled like mead.

"Oh, okay, sorry." I stared at him, puzzled. He looked handsome in that ragged, tired jacket, I liked the way his curls fell in his eyes.  _Damn, Alex, it's been a minute._

"Nah, don't worry about it, name's John Laurens, Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army, at your service." He thrust a hand out for me to shake and goddamn if he didn't wink those sparkling hazel eyes at me.

I took his hand and shook it firmly, "good to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel, I'm Alex...ander… Alexander Hamilton. We share a rank."

"Nice to meet you Alex...ander." He smirked and chuckled

"Sorry, I'm just Alex to my friends." I said like a moron. This cat wasn't my friend, he was just a guy with freckles and dimples and curls.

"Guess you're trying to ask me to be your friend." He smirked again and the dimples dotting his cheeks when he did so came out full force.

I gulped down my whiskey to prepare myself to handle speaking to this man.

"Perhaps I am, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens."

"My friends call Jack, Alex."

I hoped that the heat rising to my cheeks would be hidden by the tan colour of my skin and camouflaged by the dark bar.

"Well, then it's good to meet you, Jack."

"Likewise, and it looks like you need another drink. Hey, bartender! Get this man a drink!" He pointed to me and the rest of the men, too drunk to know why there was shouting, lifted their mugs and bottled and cheered. I was glad I hadn't needed to fight them. I didn't want that to be how I remembered my last night home. Maybe my last night ever home.

The bartender slid me another whiskey on the rocks and John Laurens slapped money on the bar and pointed to himself, earning another beer. We clinked our drinks together.

"To long lives and short service!" John cheered.

I nodded and took a drink. The burn helped to ground me to reality and I watched John's adam's apple bob while he swallowed. It was entrancing. I wanted to talk to him. To get to know him better, and dammit, if I didn't want our bodies sweaty and heaving and to feel his adam's apple between my teeth and taste his salty skin. I took another swig of whiskey and let it burn away my thoughts.

"Where are you from? You've got an accent." I shouted as music from a live band started down the length of the bar. Men and ladies started to dance together. I bet that he was a good dancer.

"South Carolina! And you?"

"Good old New York, New York!" I hollered back. It was mostly true.

As more people started to dance, seats at the bar freed up. John took one, our knees brushing as he swiveled it to face me. I smiled nervously and wondered what was going on in his mind.

"You like to dance?" He yelled.

"It's fine!" I shrugged.

"Where's your girl?"

"Don't have one! Where's yours?"

"Back home!"

"They're shipping me out tomorrow." I swept my finger around the rim of my glass, trying not to let my heart sink that he had a girl. Of course he did with those curls, those dimples.

"Me, too!" John smiled, "maybe it's good luck."

"Maybe!" I brushed it off, the mood changing.

We hollered over the music to get to know each other, he didn't seem phased with having a girl back home and she didn't come up again. With each drink we got a little bit closer to one another, able to talk a little bit quieter. He rested his hand on the back of my stool. It was such a casual gesture in the noisy bar that no one would think anything of it, but I felt the heat of his proximity and wished like crazy that his hand was on my back, palm flat against my spine, warm, caressing. The world was starting to spin around me and I was watching his lips when he spoke. He noticed how taken I was with him.

His breath was on my ear, "do you want to get out of here?"

My cheeks heated again, from his breath, his suggestion, the whiskey, I answered honestly, "yeah."

I picked up by pack and we left, I was paranoid about looking casual next to him, not wanting to be called out for being a fruit. Not by my fellow servicemen. Not tonight. John held the door behind himself for me, charging ahead into the cool night. I like his energy. He was brash and loud and his excitement for what was to come matched my own.

It was cooler outside than it had been earlier. I was dizzy from the whiskey and wanted to taste his mouth and hold him close. I wanted to feel good. To be next to him. To wake up in the morning before shipping out next to someone who'd be good company for my last night home.

"Good lordy, you can hardly damn hear the person across from ya, all them jive bombers just going at it." He pulled on his ear lobes, trying to get his hearing back.

My own hearing was a dull roar, "yeah, I guess so. Um, sorry, but what are we doing?"

"I was fixing to offer you back to my hotel."

"But what about your girl?"

"What about her? She's only my girl 'cause she's gotta be, gave her a daughter by accident, didn't mean nothin' by it, just sorta happened that way, found out I don't even particularly care for girls, not like that if you catch my drift. My daddy and her daddy, they, well… it's good politics, me sending her some letters, sending her some money, and what I do stays my business."

I took in the information and nodded slowly.

"Think you might not particularly care for girls like that either."

"I care for girls like that," I puffed out my chest but it quickly deflated, "I just care for men like that, too."

"Alex, you can't really have spent the last three hours talking to me and not think that I like you." He said it like I was dumb.

"I guess I thought that you were just being friendly and all."

"I want to be more than just friendly with you, ya big dope. Let's go back to my hotel, I sure would like to know how your lips taste." He bit his lip and squinted at me like he was imagining it.

For at least the dozenth time tonight, he made me blush. His curls bounced with every step and I followed, trying to stay in stride with him. I felt dizzy from more than the whiskey.

"Weren't you there with any people?" I asked.

"Only guys I know were dancing by the time we left." He brushed it off, more cavalier than I was.

"Your accent is cute." I tried to find my confidence again.

"I get that a lot up here, between the voice and the uniform, y'all yanks find me quite appealing." Damn, every turn he paced me with confidence and bravado.

"Don't forget about the dimples." I offered.

He flashed me a grin, popping them out, "how could I?"

I thought my knees might go too weak to carry me and was grateful when he jingled a keyring and swung it around on his finger, he let us in to a tall building and up a flight of stairs. The stairwell was empty. I felt the whiskey launch me forward and my mouth was on his, I'd backed him into the corner of the stairwell.

He tasted malty like beer, but sweet like honey at the same time. It stirred fire in my belly, kissing him. I wanted all of him. I wanted to touch him, taste him, love him. John reached up and tangled his hands in my hair.  _His hair._ I remembered his hair and knotted my fingers through his curls. They were so soft, so inviting to my fingertips. I'd been thinking about it all night, using his curls as an anchor to pull him closer, to bind us tighter together.

"Alex, we better get upstairs." He moaned against my mouth.

"No, wait." I pleaded, needing to kiss him more.

"But, Alex, it would be awful bad for someone to catch us stark lily naked in this here stairwell."

"John, we aren't naked."

"Not yet, dammit, but you stand here kissing me like that much longer and I'll have no choice but to strip you out of that preppy little sweater of yours."

I kissed him one last time, licking into his mouth, wanting to memorize each bump of his taste buds. I showed enough discretion to pull away and we crossed another flight of stairs, went back into the main hall and he unlocked one of the first rooms in the empty hallway. While I waited for him to unlock the door I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth just to taste the ghost of honey and beer on it. I went inside first and he locked the door tightly behind us, sliding the chain home, even. I was being pushed backwards, my body falling through space onto the springy, old hotel mattress and he was on top of me, straddling my waist, his mouth back on mine, where it belonged.

"Son of a gun, you taste like candies." He sat up and laughed, shucking his jacket off, followed by the t-shirt under it. His muscled rippled in the light from the windows. I gasped audibly.

He pulled at my sweater, suggesting I take it off. I obliged, and he unzipped the fly of my pants, yanking them down my hips. I gasped again, and moaned at the shock of cold air as my boxers were pulled away. His mouth was on me, deep and moaning. I looked down and had the perfect view of him, bobbing his head, filling me with pleasure. It had been a long time since I'd felt like this. I'd been too scared of dying to take a girl almost since I'd enlisted, not wanting to break her heart by my dying off in the war, other than the occasional romp, I hadn't had this kind of attention in a good minute.

I gripped John's hair like I'd fantasized about all night and guided his pace, "that feels so good. Dammit, that's so good."

He changed his pace, sucking and swirling and lapping and moving. Every motion felt like fire. I burned willingly, thrilled by his affection. He made tiny keening noises, and moaned, filling his own throat with me.

The muscles in my calves tightened as my toes started to curl. The dirty Spanish hurtled through my neighbourhood rolled off my tongue as the pressure welled and I came hard, gripping his hair by the roots.

He sat up and grinned, licking his lips slowly, staring at me.

"You like that?"

"So much." I nodded.

"Would you mind?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Not at all." I pulled his blue jeans off and tossed them on the floor.

Much like he had, I took him into my mouth and started to work him over, squeezing his gadgets gently in my hand. He liked that, gripping the sheets.

"Son of a bitch, Alex." He panted, his thighs drawing up close to my ears.

I took him deeper, tongue swirling his shaft, even here he tasted sweet. Sweet and musky, I buried my nose in the thatch of curly auburn hair at the base and hollowed my cheeks, sucking him off. He clung to the moment, moaning and stirring under me while I worked. He made the greatest sounds, keening and begging my name, pleading for more. Needing me. I reached up and gripped his abdomen, wanting to touch the muscles there, feel the spots where he was taut and hard. He whimpered and writhed even more urgently, his accent even thicker now. Finally he popped off in my mouth and I swallowed it down, coming up for air with a pant. I lie on the pillow beside him and stared up at the ceiling. It might be alright to die.

"I rather enjoyed that." He sighed with a chuckle and placed a hand on my thigh.

"Yeah, me, too." I agreed and mirrored his position.

We lie quietly, chests still heaving, feeling spent and empty. He spoke again first, "you… you scared?"

"Nah, worst comes to worst, I died for my country, probably the best chance I've got at getting my name up on a wall somewhere. That's all I really want, just, you know, to be remembered. Leave something honourable, something worthy behind."

He was silent for a long time, we both stared at the ceiling, "well, I'm scared."

It didn't make sense that you could love someone within a few hours, but maybe you could love them within a percentage of your life, and if I only had a few weeks left on earth than the last few hours were a good percent of my life, I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at him, tears glistened on the sides of his face, raining down over his temples and his ears. He was too pretty to cry. He was too pretty while he cried. His face was soft and placid, calmly accepting the fear he felt.

He sat up quickly and wiped his face, "no, I'm sorry." He put his head in his hands to hide his face from me.

"Jack, it's alright to be scared." I sat up and cradled him.

"I wanted to be a doctor."

"You still can after this is all said and done, once we rid this world of every last damn Nazi, you'll be the best doctor." I ran my socked toes the tops of his where our feet dangled off the bed.

"You don't even know me." He sniffed and flexed his toes to rub back against mine.

"I think I've gotten to know you enough." I considered the circumstances.

He chuckled softly, "reckon so."

He looked over at me, his face was red either from the crying or the embarrassment.

"It's okay."

"I want to see my sisters get married, see 'em have pretty curly headed babies, want to see my brothers grow up, I don't want them in this war, you know? I guess, see my… daughter grow up... I... don't... want... to die."

"I don't think any of us do, Jack. No dying here, deal?" I held out my hand and he shook it.

"Deal. You probably think I'm just a lousy swish, don't you?"

"Absolutely not. I think you're a frightened soldier."

"How come you aren't more scared?"

"I've just got a lot less to live for, I guess. More to die for."

"I'm guessing you'd like to leave and pretend that all this was just make believe, right?"

"Actually, I was hoping I could stay. I may not be scared, but I could do with a night of camaraderie. A warm bed, a warm body in it next to me."

"Please stay." I could tell he was trying not to sound like he was begging.

"I'd love to." I lie back down and pulled him with me.

I held him close and savoured the feeling of his warm skin against mine.

"It's gonna be a long couple months." He sighed.

"Where are they putting you?" I asked, hardly able to believe that I hadn't sooner.

"I'm on Operation Overlord." He suddenly sounded tired.

"So am I." I took his hand and he squeezed mine.

"Night, Alex."

"Night, Jack. Glad I met you."

We slept, warm and tangled together and in the morning woke up still wrapped in each other. At some point in the night he'd begun to hold me. I felt safe and small in his arms. A feeling that usually would make me uneasy, but not with him. With him it felt right. Felt good.

"Good morning." I kissed his shoulder.

"Mornin'," he smiled down at me and tipped my chin up to kiss him.

We got up to start getting ready. I showered while he shaved and then shaved while he showered, we took turns brushing our teeth in the tiny sink. We dressed in our uniforms, he looked even better than I'd imagined in his uniform. I went out ahead of him and stood outside while he checked out, trying to seem like we hadn't been together the way that we had.

He joined me outside. We spent the day together, being shuffled around by superiors and were able to sit together on the plane.

"Ever been out of the country?" I asked.

"Been to London and Switzerland. You?" He shrugged.

"Man, I grew up on tiny little Nevis."

"You're an immigrant?"

I shrugged, "more or less, came here as a boy. Barely remember it."

"But you love this country enough to fight for it?"

"Sure do."

"I think about all the coloured people fighting in this war. They've been fighting in our wars all along and we treat 'em like hell even still." He shook his head.

I nodded, thinking about the slurs that had been hurtled at me for my own tanned skin. John looked forward on the plane and I could tell that he was deep in thought.

"What's on your mind?"

"Winning this war, mostly. It's wrong what they're doing, the Nazis I mean. So wrong, and the people didn't even notice it happening until it was too late. They're taking the Jews, all of 'em, lining 'em up and striking 'em down."

His heart was true. He was a good man. Now with even more a percentage of my life spent knowing him, I knew I was starting to love him.

"It's wrong." I agreed.

We talked about strategies and I dozed. It was a long flight.

Finally, tired and haggard, we arrived. Loads of young men disembarked the plane and we walked down the slim metal staircase. It was so much colder here. We were given a tour of the base that would house us for the next few weeks until the operation came to fruition and we were given the commands to move. John and I walked so close to one another that our fingers brushed, we made it look like an accident the first time, and the second.

The third time, I caressed his palm with my thumb secretly and then to play up my innocence turned to him, "sorry about that, close quarters."

"It's no problem." He smirked at me, letting one dimple pop.

I counted it as extremely good fortune that the tiny pup tents were two men to a tent. John and I quickly made camp in a free spot and rid ourselves of our things inside. I brushed his wrist with my fingers discreetly, in our tent, wanting him to know I was thinking about him. He bit his lip and smirked at me. I wanted it to be nightfall and thanked the powers that be for the good fortune of not only meeting him, but of also getting stationed with him and getting to share a tent. Outside we heard haughty laughter and stepped out to see what was so funny. A soldier in casual dress, standing much taller than me, he wore longer hair than I'd seen in the military, but kept it neat and pulled back high was outside, chattering with other men. He was about my complexion but seemed to at least be a mulatto.

"'Ello!" He shook my hand and then John's.

"Good evening." I greeted him.

"Evenin'," John smiled.

"I am Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette." The other man had a grace about him.

"Who-da-whatty now?" John quirked an eyebrow and the man. I recognized his accent as French and smirked to myself.

"You may call me Laf or Lafayette."

"That works for me, I'm John, this is Alex."

It was the frenchman's turn to cock a brow at us.

I gestured to John, "John Laurens," and then to myself, "je m'appelle Alexander Hamilton, nous sommes Lieutenant Colonels. Il vous disait nos surnoms."

John looked at me in shock as our new friend laughed, "what?"

"I was explaining that those are just our nicknames."

"But you speak French?"

"Fluently." I nodded.

"How he does not know this, your friend?" Lafayette looked between us.

"Never really came up." I shrugged it off, pleased that our new compatriot believed us to be long time friends.

"So, you're French?" John asked.

Lafayette giggled, a high tinkling bell, "I am, but I will fight with you here, for it is my country and I will protect her against evil."

It was a rousing speech, my heart warmed.

"God, I could go for some joe right about now." John blew into his hands to warm himself.

"Me, too." I agreed.

"Yes, yes, right this way." He led us to a small camp stove and provided cups of coffee to us.

It reignited me, even acrid and weak as it was. It was still warm and caffeinated.

"How long have you been here?" I asked Lafayette.

"About… two weeks?"

"Damn. That long? Know anything good yet?"

He shook his head disappointedly, "no, they are keeping very quiet, but your man Washington, he is very good."

We chatted for a while and got to know Lafayette. I wanted to desperately to touch John, just a brush against his cheek, or as I grew more tired, to lean against his shoulder.

"I have some things to work on back at the tent, you guys enjoy." I snuck away to the tent that John and I claimed and began working on correspondences that I was charged with by the General, using my lamp when it became too dark to see.

John joined me after it was fully dark outside. I looked at my watch, it got dark early here.

"Hi." He whispered, pulling his boots off to leave them at the opening of the tent, trying to keep our things clean.

"Hi, what do you think of our new friend?"

"He's good people. He just learned English a few months ago."

"Damn, he's good." I kept writing, finishing the thought that I was on.

"You about done?"

I nodded.

John whispered, "because I'm thinking that it wouldn't be good to make shadow puppets on the walls of this tent of me kissing your pretty lips.

"No, that probably wouldn't be good for us." I chuckled and tucked my writings away before turning out the light, slinking into my bedroll. John rustled into his.

Damn, it was cold here. I thought about how warm I'd been sleeping with John just last night and longed to crawl in his sleeping bag with him.

His hand found my cheek in the dark and pulled it close to his, his lips were on mine silently, we were cautious of every noise as I licked into his mouth. Every breath, every smack, every rustle felt so much louder out here, exposed, so close to so many men. We clung to each other, barricaded apart by our sleeping bags, our arms binding us together. He nipped at my lip and rolled it between his teeth. I help my breath to shut myself up and ran my tongue against his and he whimpered silently, gripping my hair tightly to stifle himself. We finally made ourselves break apart, panting quietly, out of breath. Our hands stayed linked and we fell asleep.

The next day was filled with drills and exercises. We found Lafayette and sat beside him at breakfast and shared stories, talking in the way that men do when they're alone. We volleyed conversation and all became fast friends. He told us of his love back home, a young girl called Adrienne. John talked about his girl, the one he'd produced a daughter with. They both taunted me for being single. I kicked John under the table while wearing a smirk.

The exercises were tiring. The drills were draining. I spent a good portion of the days with our General, a tall, broad man, Washington. He bore the name of the first president and supposedly shared blood with him. I knew that along with blood, he shared virtue, courage, and charisma. He was a good leader, a good man.

We awaited the call for the operation to begin, finding time to play cards and to write letters home. I wrote letters to John, signing them only A.H. and slipped them into his sleeping bag for him to find later. After long days, we would sit with Lafayette and tell stories and jokes, sing songs, his English got better and better. We became an inseparable gang and were playfully called the Trio by the rest of the platoon, rarely seen one without the others.

John and I spent the nights in our tent, kissing until we fell asleep, hands exploring each others bodies, doing as much as we could to one another quietly. We were falling in love hard and fast. I knew by the time that I'd spent this percentage of my life knowing John that I could safely confirm my feelings as love.

One night, now much warmer than the week that we'd arrived he and I were lying in our tent, practicing our nightly routine of kissing each other as passionately as we could muster in silence, I pulled him close to me, taking him in my arms.

"Jack." I whispered.

"What is it, Alex?" He whispered back, his sweet breath warm on my face.

"I love you. I'm so in love with you that I can't even stand it."

He giggled softly, "I love you, too, Alex."

"After this dad-blamed war is over, I want nothing better than just to hide out in the sticks with you like, and act just like two married people do and love you as the day is long. Love each other more than any man ever loved a girl. Have a long, happy life with you and quarrel over what's for dinner, watch the television together. Sleep all curled up with each other."

"I'm gonna hold you to it." He said into my neck.

"You better. We're gonna have a nice ole Victrola, too, Jitterbug the whole night away in our little house in the boondocks. Maybe even get a dog."

"I want to see you dance." He laughed.

"You can't picture me dancing?"

He laughed quietly and I knew for a fact that it was the most beautiful sound in the whole world, "not even a little bit."

"What? You're nuts."

"Prove it, then." He challenged.

"Blast all these Nazis and I'll prove it to you day in and day out. I'll dance with you every morning and wake you up with pancakes and bacon."

"You'd better, Hamilton."

"Promise, baby doll. I promise it."

"Do you think that Laf knows about us?" John asked after a moment.

I shifted in my sleeping bag and pushed myself even closer to him, "I don't know, why? Do you? We're pretty quiet about it."

"I just think he might's all. If he does, he doesn't seem like the sort of cat to go flapping his lips."

"That's more my domain isn't it?" I chuckled.

"No, you don't flap your lips, you run your mouth, there's a difference."

"Good night, silly. Come here and let me give you another smooch."

I kissed his warm mouth in the dark and tasted honey of his lips. As I slept I dreamt of our life in the sticks where there'd be no one to laugh at us, where we could be in love together and share a good life together, bopping to the Victrola, kissing loud as we could, no one around to tell us otherwise, watching the television together. He'd grow his hair out long just so I had more curls to play with. It was a good life. It was a good dream.

Lafayette was already up and drinking coffee the next morning when John and I got up. I yawned into my mug.

"We've got a date." Lafayette told us.

"How do you know?" I was surprised that he had this kind of information before I did. This news shook me of my fog.

"Heard from the General. June sixth, we're going to hit it and to hit it hard."

"That's in four days." I thought it over.

"That's in four days." John agreed and looked at me hesitantly.

The day was tremulous, exciting. John and I talked through maneuvers and I spent part of the evening discussing plans with the General and writing his correspondences.

"I don't know what your affiliation is, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, but I suggest that this is a good time to pray." He told me as I left his tent that night.

John and I held each other closer than we usually did.

"It's okay to be scared now, right?" John whispered.

"Yeah, it's okay. I'm scared, too."

I listened to the rustle of his head turning, he was looking at me in the dark, "you are?"

"Yeah… I'm more afraid of dying now because I have so much more to live for."

"We're not dying." John decided.

"I think that's a good plan."

"Dead people don't get houses in the woods with dogs and Victrolas."

"Dead people don't get pancakes."

"Dead people don't get their Johnson's fondled."

"Dead people don't get to see me dance."

"You've got me on that one."

I kissed him tenderly, leaning my body over his and cradling him in my arms. He touched my face, mapping it in the dark. We slept hand in hand like every night.

Lafayette was filled with energy for the remainder of the week.

"This is my country, not those rats, those bastards. My homeland will not continue to be treated this way." He bounced as he spoke, like a dog pulled tight at the end of his leash.

"Good English, Laf." John giggled.

I smirked at the sound and ate my breakfast.

"It is true! No longer, will we stand for this!"

"Lafayette, will you sit down for chrissakes before you tip off everyone in the world to our exact plans, our position?" I pulled him by the back of his t-shirt to sit him back on the bench next to me.

"This is what we have been waiting for, though. It is very excitement!"

"Exciting." John and I corrected in tandem.

"Either way!" Lafayette grinned and managed to eat more of his breakfast.

I worked closely with the General, getting little opportunity to see John throughout the day while he ran drills with the lower soldiers. I looked forward to our nights together more than anything else.

"Do you think we're gonna change things?" He asked me the night before the Operation was set to strike.

"I do. I think this is gonna be big. This is the stuff of legacies."

"I hope we do. I hope we get every last one of 'em." He sounded determined, fiery, excited.

The last few weeks together had warmed him to the notion of war and to what we were here to do. I was ready to take it on and to fight. I had a life in the woods waiting for me on the other side of the war. I traced the curves of his face, memorizing every line. He smelled me, inhaling deeply at my throat.

"I can't imagine I smell too great." I laughed softly.

"You smell like you. Like home."

"South Carolina smells like dirty man? I'm alright missing out on that."

"No, you're my home. You smell like you. Home." He reiterated and nuzzled up against him.

"Love you, Jackie."

"Love you more, Alex."

I kissed him tenderly, knowing that our last kiss of the night would be the last kiss we could share until the end of the Operation if we were to conceal our relationship. It was a slow kiss, soft and patient, lacking the urgency of our first kisses. It was comfortable, no longer exploring each other, rather, just navigating familiar waters. I loved him so, each kiss was meant to be a reminder of that. He sucked my lip into his mouth and tasted it delicately. I stroked his tongue with my own and finally we fell asleep. John and I slept in each other's arms that night. Wanting too desperately to be close for the last night until the end of the Operation.

Bright and early we rose and struck our camps. John and I secured our helmets and climbed into one of the waiting boats, Lafayette clambered in behind us.

"This is it." I took a deep breath.

"Today we kill the bastards." Lafayette agreed.

"Let's go." John agreed.

It was grey out, the mist coming off the water was cold, I wondered how much colder the water itself would have been. I inspected my rifle again, it was perfect. It was as ready as me. Lafayette kept his gaze trained on the beach, still far away. John tapped my boot with his and smiled at me. I tapped his boot with me and smiled back.

I listened to Lafayette pray in French and watched John's lips move to his own silent prayer. I ran the drills in my mind. It was so windy, the water was rough and choppy. We would be backed by air and navy. We'd trained. We were America goddammit. We got close and the ramp dropped on the bow and we were given the command to charge. My heart raced as we all ran out of the boat. We were met instantly with gunfire, they were too close, something wasn't right. We were off target. We were off target. The defenses were so strong. I watched men get shot down The defenses were so strong. I grabbed John and pulled him, seeing a rocky grotto that we could hide behind and regroup, Lafayette got the hint.

We clustered under cover.

"We're off mark, badly. They're a lot stronger than we thought." I took command.

Lafayette licked his lips and nodded.

"What do we do?" John stared at me, eyes full of trust.

I thought quickly, each thought shattered by the sound of gunfire so near, "I think if we can get far enough to the side and push the flank we have a better chance. Get over the bluffs and we've got it. If I could just see it, I'd know."

John was pulling out his binoculars and I shook my head, "hold on. It's too heavy right now."

"Okay." John waited.

"Okay, okay. I think that's the plan." I waited for a pause in the gunfire and nodded at John to look.

He popped out of our hole and in the cold mist off the water I felt my face get hot and wet in an instant, my vision went red. I blinked my sight clear and John fell next to me.

"Merde!" Lafayette popped out of the hole and shot down the enemies.

I cradled John in my arms and watched a red blossom bloom across his chest.

"I'm real sorry." John looked up at me in terror, his eyes were getting glassy. He gripped my forearms tightly.

"I can... No, Jackie, I can make this okay, we can get you help, just hold on. WHERE'S MY GODDAMN MEDIC?" I pressed my hand on the wound and they turned red instantly.

"Hamilton, this is more than a medic can…" Lafayette started and crossed himself.

"It's really okay, 'Lex. I'll be okay." John told me, his beautiful lips went red with blood, it outlined and his teeth and he coughed, covering me in more of his blood.

"I'm so sorry, John. I was trying to protect us." I pulled his helmet off and brushed through his sweaty curls, wanting to touch them forever.

"It's pretty cold here, huh?" He pondered.

I nodded, "yeah, it's pretty cold." I stroked his cheek. His freckles paled.

Lafayette was covering us, he ducked down to reload and pressed two fingers to his lips and then to John's cheek.

"Rest easy, my friend."

John coughed and patted Lafayette's hand, foamy blood poured over his cheek, I wiped it away.

"So does this mean I can't have pancakes?"

"No, baby doll, you can have all the pancakes you want."

He coughed another spatter of blood on me, "I really wanted to see you dance."

"I'm gonna dance every morning for you. Every morning, I'm just gonna jitterbug like it's nobody's business. For you, Jackie."

"I'm pretty cold." He whispered faintly.

"I know, I know, you're so brave, John, so strong." Tears rolled off my cheeks.

"I think I want to go to sleep, if that's okay."

I cried and rocked him in my arms, "of course it's okay, you just go to sleep, baby doll. You just go to sleep and you'll know this was just a bad dream. It's just a bad, bad dream, just a bad dream, Jack."

He looked over my shoulder with his glassy eyes, "wow… is that your mom? She's so pretty."

I looked over my shoulder instinctively, but saw only the beach. John shook in my arms, hard, convulsing.

"Hamilton!" Lafayette sounded strained as he reloaded his weapon.

I cried harder and John's eyes went sightless, staring up at me, "I really love you." His head slumped over.

"Good night, sweet prince." I kissed his hair.

"Hamilton!" Lafayette shouted again.

I drew my knife and cut a lock of John's hair, tucking it deep in my boot before securing my knife and pulling his dog tags. I snapped into action and drew my weapon. Lafayette and I covered each other, we had a good defensive position as long as our ammo held. I touched John's hand every time I ducked down to reload, by the second reload, it was cold. By the fifth, his chest was, too.

"We're running out." Lafayette looked at me as clueless and lost as I was.

"We fall back." I decided.

"We can't take him with us."

"I know." I picked up his gun, it would get us back to the boat, I was the cleaner shot, Lafayette shouldered my empty weapon.

"I love you," I whispered to John and looked at Lafayette.

I nodded three times and we ran, I turned to fire, and kept running, we made it to the boat and got more ammunition, I covered Lafayette to reload and he covered me. I could see John's body from here. Growing cold, abandoned. Would he make it home? Would he be left here forever?

"Hamilton! I need you! I need help!"

I snapped back and stood to fire on the enemy, Lafayette took cover. It stayed like this for a long while. The gunfire finally got fewer and farther between, we got backup from the skies and more on the water. I stared at John's body, there were so many more like it. When the fighting stopped I dropped to the sand, unsure of how I'd gotten back out to the beach or even what day it was.

"Alexander, come on." Lafayette was pulling me up by my arms.

I let him guide me. He made us camp near some of our platoon. I just watched him. He wet a rag in the water of the tide and crouched before me, he wiped my face and I watched as he pulled away the rag now stained pink. He wet it again and ran it over my hands and arms, it came away red.

He started to throw the rag aside, "I want to keep it."

"Alexander."

I shouted at him, "I want to keep it!"

I cried again.

Pancakes and dancing to the Victrola and a dog and a little place out in the sticks where no one could say anything about it. Just us, loving each other like no man had ever loved a girl before.

"Okay, okay, you can keep it." Lafayette nodded tenderly.

I nodded back at him.

"I know you loved him." Lafayette told me.

"No you don't." I dropped to my side and clutched my knees, feeling in my boot for his lock of hair.

"Alexander, I am smart. I know how you loved him, you kept it well from others, but I know. I am so sorry for your loss, my heart breaks a thousand times for his sacrifice and for yours."

I wiped my face, "you knew?"

"Of course, I knew. Every time that he looked at you, my heart would pang, because it is the way that my Adrienne looks at me. How you leaned into his words remind me of myself when she speaks. It is the most beautiful thing to love someone. I am so sorry."

I nodded and wanted to sleep or die or do anything that would let me see him again. I just wanted to hear him laugh one more time, to hold him close to me while we slept. Lafayette convinced me into the tent he pitched and I slept clutching the bloody rag. My body was almost surely in shock. So I slept. And in my sleep I dreamt. I dreamt of holding him close in the tent. Him crawling in the sleeping bag with me, our bodies so warm together.

He brushed my hair back.

"You look a little rough there, babe." He laughed his perfect laugh, dimples out on display.

It was light out, we shouldn't have been in the tent, but it was okay.

"You're one to talk." I smiled back at him.

"You're my greatest love, Alex." He kissed my cheek.

"And you're mine. I really want to hate you."

"Probably, yeah." He chuckled.

"But I just can't. I love you too much."

"Would a kiss make it better?"

I nodded and he kissed me, loud. Moaning, gripping my hair. I moaned into his mouth and trailed my lips over his jaw and sucked at his adam's apple.

"May I have this dance?" I asked him.

He giggled like a schoolgirl and we stepped out of the tent into a beautiful grassy meadow and danced together to the music of the forest, birds and crickets and the stream.

"So you can dance." He laughed.

I pulled back and looked at him, his long curls spilling over his shoulders, "I told you I could."

"So you did. Now make me pancakes." He winked.

"Every day."

"Forever."

He pulled me back to the tent, "now, Alex…" he started like he might be chastising a child.

"What, love?"

"Now you have to get up and you have to fight."

"What?" I furrowed my brow at him and his kissed me, lips like honey.

"Alex!" Lafayette shook me and I bolted up.

It was daylight.

Lafayette repeated himself, "you have to get up and fight."


End file.
